This is a nice song from the movie Ranjhna. And what a reaction by Dhanush after a hard slap!! Have you seen anyone reacting like this after getting a hard slap? I haven't. And I so like watching this video!!

This is my first book by Moni Mohsin. "The diary of a social butterfly" published by Random House India, is a diary of butterfly, a
wealthy so called socialite of Pakistan. She calls her husband Janoo (Sometimes Boodhi Rooh! And she is so gay, so gay keh koi hisaab nahin...) and mother-in-law Old Bag. She doesn't care what happens in her country or world. She is just interested in fashion, parties, GT (Oho, get together aur kya?) and her horrible (Wrong and misspelled words) Hinglish.

If you talk about story, there is no story. It's a series of random diary entries. Actually, this is a collection of weekly columns written by the author for Friday Times, Lahore.

I've read some fabulous review of this book and that's why I decided to read this. Especially, the 'hilarious' term used for this book attracted me. But unfortunately, I didn't find it hilarious. Of course, butterfly's Hinglish is amusing but it becomes monotonous and sometimes disturbing later on due to lack of proper plot and any twists and turns.

Writing style is very light but it's too light to talk about. You have to bear with horrible English, eg. I've chup karaoed everybody, Dior ka saddle bag must hai for me, Aik tau they have also become kaamchor, God safe me from family, deer departeds and many more.... thanks to butterfly's strong desire to speak English! And since it's her diary, the book is full of this language!!

The book cover is nice! Every entry is very short that makes it an easy and quick read.

It can be interesting for weekly columns but it doesn't seem like a novel as there is no continuity. You read it from anywhere and you won't feel like missing something. If you are a person who gets amused by every little thing, it will be a fun read for you but for me, it was an average read. Not so interesting and definitely not hilarious.

I received this book from Random Reads for an honest review. Thanks Rukun!

Recently,
Angelina Jolie underwent breast surgery called double mastectomy, in which
surgeons remove the tissues of breast and insert fillers to keep the
elasticity, to protect herself from breast cancer.

Angelina
Jolie's mother had breast cancer and she died of ovarian cancer. Angelina Jolie carries the BRCA1 gene that puts her at high risk of developing breast or ovarian cancer. She says, she doesn't want her children to live without their mother like she did. It’s the
modern healthcare techniques that helped her to retain the joy of motherhood without any
anxiety.

Becoming a mother is a very common phenomenon of the world. But ask those women who are
deprived of this pleasure! Or those who struggle to attain this most prized designation. Recently, I met two new moms. I was surprised to see
them, pleasantly though. Sarita was about fifty and Kalawati, fifty plus!

In 19 years
of married life, Sarita tried hard to conceive but couldn't taste the
sweetness of motherhood. Kalawati’s story is more tragic. She was a proud
mother of two children but she never imagined in her wildest dream that her fate could be so
cruel. She lost both her children.

In both cases yearning for a child is quite
obvious and justified. But modern medical
era did not let them keep hankering. Finally, both opted for IVF (In Vitro Fertilization). Through this technique, both
Sarita and Kalawati are proud mothers of a girl and a boy child respectively.

Unfortunately, both gave birth to premature babies. I'm startled to see the number of cases of premature delivery these days. A decade before survival
of premature babies was a threat and tough challenge (It’s still a challenge in small
towns.) but now days medical science has reached a level where you will be
pleased to see premature babies survive and thrive. Mothers at high risk of premature delivery are administered a course of steroids to prevent any respiratory problems in babies as they have underdeveloped lungs at that stage.

It’s so
charming and delightful to see your child grow up like normal baby. What if a
woman gives birth to a child who is differently able? Physically and mentally
retarded, to be precise. Shyamli is a mother of nine year old boy. But she did
not have the pleasure to see her son grow up like a normal child. He suffers
from cerebral palsy and is unable to do anything.Shyamli was very apprehensive about having another child. She was scared actually. Finally,
after consulting many doctors and to fulfill her emotional satisfaction, Shyamli conceived
after nine years. She and her husband were worried about the health of this
upcoming child. Then the doctor suggested trimester screening to identify/detect the
risk of any disorder in the child at the early stage. Thankfully, everything was normal. After the delivery, doctors said that everything is fine with the baby. Now Shyamli and her husband are enjoying the normal activities of their three months old baby. A sliver of anxiety still resides in their hearts but they are hoping for the best.

Joy of
motherhood is precious and it adds bliss and serenity to life. In my opinion,
modern medical techniques have helped many want-to-be mothers attain and retain
this greatest joy of life!

My mind took some time to register that she was my new maid.She wore jeans and top. Carried a mobile with an earphone. And she had a nice haircut.

Kajal was about twenty three. She worked nicely but it looked really weird and sometimes funny when she cleaned the floor wearing tight jeans. Or talked on earphone while washing utensils. I
was puzzled why she worked as a maid?

“Do you work anywhere else as a house help?” I asked one
day.

“Yes bhabhi, I work at one more place.” Kajal said washing the utensils. “If I won’t work, no one would give me a single meal.” She
mumbled after a pause.

“Why?” I was startled to hear this.

“You know bhabhi, my mother had forcibly married me off with a mad
man, six years back. My in-laws treated me like servant. All my married sister-in-laws lived there. I had to manage all the household chores single-handedly. No one helped me. I tried to adjust there but what about my happiness and desires?" She was saying in a flow and I was listening, feeling pity for her."So," She was not done yet. "I left my husband. That house. My mother forced me to stay there. But I Couldn't. Since then my mother hates me.When I returned back, my mother said she can’t
bear my expenses and I had to earn. I’m not educated so there was no choice but
work as a maid.”

“It’s okay. Work is work. We should not consider any work
small.” I tried to lift her spirit. I had to admit that she was brave enough to take a bold step of getting out of an unwanted marriage. Even some educated women tend to stay in a bad marriage for the sake of their parents, sometimes children and above all society.

“But my dreams are big.” She said, arranging the plates.
I said nothing and busied myself in some other work.

The other day, I was talking to my husband. I said I
need to go to the parlor for facial and waxing. Next day, Kajal came to me after work
and it seemed she wanted to say something.

“Do you want to say something?” I asked.

“Yes bhabhi. I can do facial and waxing. I charge less than
parlors. Try me once. Don’t give me any money.” She said.

I was surprised. She was kidding or what. “How come you do facial and waxing?”

“I worked at Shalini didi’s place. She is a beautician
and owns a parlor. I learned from her. Mostly by watching her work. I worked at her place for free. I helped her in
the parlor for free. I don’t want to work as a maid whole life.” I recalled when she said “My dreams are big.”

She did my facial with absolute dedication and she indeed
charged less than parlors. “Bhabhi…I’m good at eyebrows. Trust me. Shall I?”
She asked with slight hesitation.

Generally, I’m very particular about my eyebrows and I
don’t handover it to any random beautician. But I was surprised that I allowed
her. I noticed she was good at convincing.To my utter relief, she actually made a fine eyebrow.

“Kajal, are you expert in hair-cutting also.” I asked
just like that.

“No bhabhi, I’m still learning. Get your hair done in a
parlor. I won’t lie. I’m not good at it.” I liked her honesty.

“Why don’t you open your own parlor?” I asked one day.

“It needs money bhabhi.” She said smiling and I scolded
myself for asking such a silly question. “You know bhabhi…” She continued.
“Sometime back, I had started my own beauty parlor in partnership with one of
my friends.”

I was listening with interest. “I put my money in it. We were new. We need to be
patient but my friend gave up and we had to close the parlor. Too much money
was wasted.” She said thoughtfully and I could not resist praising her insight
inwardly.

Days went on. I was happy that I didn't need to go to the
parlor, at least for regular facial, waxing and eyebrow.

One day she came very late in the morning. Actually it
was close to afternoon when she arrived. I got really frustrated because we don’t have scope to waste time in the mornings.

“Why you have arrived so late Kajal?” I asked hiding my
irritation.

“Actually, there’s a didi who called me for facial. I
thought I can make some money.” She said sheepishly. I could sense a desire to
work hard and earn. But my household chores are also important.

Gradually, it had become her habit. Bunking my work and
go to earn money. Of course it was good for her but what about my work?

“Why don’t you join a beauty parlor as a worker? You’ll
learn and earn at the same time.” I said one day. If she doesn't have time for my work then better leave. I thought.
I was really annoyed.

“No bhabhi. Now I don’t want to do a job. They don’t give
nice salary and I will have to work according to their wish. I want to do something of
my own. I know there are small works but I hope to make it big. I hope someday
I get an order of bridal make-up or multiple works in marriages. Or maybe I can open my own parlor. Without any partnership this time.” She smiled. I liked her
passion but my work was suffering. I sighed. Sigh of exasperation. Sigh of
resignation. Getting a nice house-help is a tough task you know.

She repeated her vanishing act and late arrival quite often. She made some personal and family excuses. I couldn't say anything but I
was getting frustrated. But she was soft spoken and worked nicely that I didn't want to be rude.

It was 12:30 p.m.and she was nowhere to be seen. One glance at loads of work, and my anger started to brew. Suddenly my phone buzzed. It was Kajal. This time I
was prepared to vent my anger on her. As I picked up the phone, she started talking without giving me
any chance to speak.

“Bhabhi, I won’t be able to come today.” She informed. ‘What a breaking news it is!.’ I thought
irritably.

“Why!?”

“Someone has called me for facial. Three facials
and waxing!" She was chirruping. "And you know bhabhi today in the evening I'm going for a bridal make-up with Shalini didi! This wedding season I hope to earn good. It’s good, isn’t it?”She was expecting me to be happy for her “Yes.” Don't know why but I didn't want to disappoint her.

I looked at the heap of dirty utensils in the sink
helplessly. But I smiled. I was happy that she was rising. She dared to dream, worked hard and she was approaching
her big dream gradually.

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About Me

Tarang Sinha

I am a freelance writer and author of We Will Meet Again, a contemporary romance. My works have been published in Good Housekeeping India, Child India, New Woman, Woman's Era, Alive, and a best-selling anthology @ Uff Ye Emotions 2.